


#happilyeverafter

by flourchildwrites



Category: Fairy Tail
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Awkward Post-College Phase, Breaking Up & Making Up, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Did I Mention Angst?, Eventual Romance, F/M, Fluff, Gratuitous Smut, Instagram, My First Work in This Fandom, Texting, Weddings, What Have I Done
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-07
Updated: 2018-07-23
Packaged: 2019-05-03 09:36:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14566191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flourchildwrites/pseuds/flourchildwrites
Summary: They parted ways in gut-wrenching fashion, occasioned by Jellal’s folly of youth. After four years of collecting lackluster notches on his bedpost, Erza asks a favor. And really, who is he to refuse her?Fairy Tail Modern AU, a tale as old as time complete with drunken texts, Instagram and the kind of regretful angst that being single at someone else's wedding can cause.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So about this...
> 
> I did the thing I said I wasn't going to do: Write a bunch of Jerza fanfiction with two other chapter fics still unfinished. But this one just wanted to be born, and the length got away from me. So ta-da! Another unfinished chapter fic.
> 
> Bookmarks, subscriptions, kudos, comments (especially comments) and suggestions for future chapters are GREATLY appreciated. I mean smile in the never-ending line at the post office during Christmas kind of appreciated.
> 
> Happy Reading!
> 
> -A
> 
> P.S. If you're only here for the smut, skip straight to chapter 3.

Cell phones belonged in lockers.  That was the rule Mr. Yajima preached.  They did not belong in pants pockets, and they should never be seen in the hands of a server for any reason.  If there was an emergency, someone could call the restaurant, and he would gladly relay the message.

Jellal knew the rules, and he was damn lucky to have a job, even if the pay was less than par.  He bided his time waiting tables at 8-Island with a BS in astronomy, asking the little voice inside his head to tell him what to do with his life.  Jellal knew the rules, but he broke them anyway because he also knew what day it was.  And he was a glutton for punishment.  A masochist of sorts who followed @levythescriptmage on Instagram.

During his shift, Jellal seized every opportunity to slip away.  While double checking the taps, he saw the happy couple plastered up and down his news feed with hashtags such as #newlywednalu and #heartfiliagothitched.  Of course, Levy hadn’t stopped there.  Jellal vaguely wondered how many hashtags she could squeeze into a single caption.  To him, a # was just a pound sign.  

Yet, Levy’s photographs were excellent, immersive even.  After gazing at several still shots, Jellal felt as if he’d been there to see Lucy and Natsu make their grand entrance into married life.  Indeed, Lucy’s décolletage left little to the imagination, but her full white skirt fanned out elegantly over her hips.  The sleeves of Natsu’s tux were too long, and the entire ensemble was clearly of the ill-fitting rental variety.  Nevertheless, they looked happy, riding high on cloud nine and pink champagne.

It wasn’t until just before the dinner rush that Jellal spied her in the leftmost foreground of a reception shot.  She looked through the frame of the picture with a rich amber gaze that stirred an atrophied part of his heart.  Erza’s confident smile stretched the corners of her delicate face, and her nose wrinkled in sheer levity.  But it was her crimson hair, pinned in curls near the nape of her neck that Jellal found entrancing.  He longed to play with the stray strands of her silky tresses and pull out the bobby pins one by one.

He could have stared at the candid shot all night before he noticed the tall, dark and loathsome figure standing in profile near Jellal’s former lover.  The caption “So much love in the room!  Everyone deserves to live #happilyeverafter” caught Jellal’s eye.  His customer service face fell into a jealous grimace as he thought about Erza’s new boyfriend.  Although, new wasn’t a fair term for a relationship that had first been observed over 2 and a half years ago.

Simon was pre-med at Crocus University, from what Jellal had heard.  All well-defined muscles and tanned skin, traits Simon attributed to his days as a competitive swimmer.  Jellal didn’t know how Simon met Erza, but he had seen Simon around Magnolia, even shook his hand, when the couple visited Irene during the winter break of Erza’s junior year of college.  The young astronomer’s imagination replayed their awkward introduction often when he was feeling particularly self-loathing.

Jellal shoved his phone in his pocket with uncharacteristic fervor.  It had been over four years since Irene had caught wind of Jellal’s ill-fated engagement to Erza, and like fools, they had been the ones to tell her.  _Too young_ , she had lectured.  _Unsettled_ , she had protested.  _Give it more time_ ; Erza relented to her mother’s caution.  And come fall, Jellal’s fiancée transferred to Crocus University under the pretense of “a better education.”

In the beginning, Erza visited Jellal at every opportunity.  She slipped between his sheets on long weekends and laid lazily in his embrace until he didn’t know where she ended and he began.  However, by spring the bedroom air grew stale.  Jellal reasoned that the pressure of his studies obliged his eyes to wander, and Ultear encouraged her companion to sow his wild oats.  The simple pursuit of happiness was the raven-hair beauty’s way.  Jellal heedlessly wondered aloud whether they’d settled too soon.  And so, Erza returned the ring, stayed in Crocus and continued steadily toward her bright future.

With nothing to lose, Jellal set out for greener pastures, but he found it all to be clever window dressing.  The women who fell into his bed never smelled like warm honey, and their moans didn’t ring in his ears past the midnight hours.  His experiences were unremarkable, forgettable by the time he closed the door behind them in the morning without sharing so much as a cup of coffee.  Jellal collected ten-digit numbers in the contacts section of his phone with corresponding notches on his bedpost. 

Years later, and especially that night when he peered furtively at the picture of her during the endless hours of his shift, Jellal’s soul felt as empty as a drum, his heart drenched in white instead of scarlet.

Then, the improbable happened.  Jellal’s eyes widened when he saw her name, boxed in the middle of his illuminated phone screen.  His stomach lurched as he ducked through the sweltering kitchen and into the freezer which uncharacteristic haste.  He saw his breath billow out in front of him as the cold settled into the folds of his starched black collared shirt.

> _ERZA SCARLET, 8:38 p.m._   
>  _Hey. r u in town?_
> 
> _JELLAL FERNANDES, 8:41 p.m._   
>  _Hey. I am. What's up?_
> 
> _ERZA SCARLET, 8:42 p.m._   
>  _I'm actually in Magnolia 2nite._
> 
> _ERZA SCARLET, 8:44 p.m._   
>  _And I know we haven't spoken in a while, but I need a favor._
> 
> _JELLAL FERNANDES, 8:44 p.m._   
>  _Are you ok?_
> 
> _ERZA SCARLET, 8:45 p.m._   
>  _I'm fine. If ur busy, it's okay._
> 
> _ERZA SCARLET, 8:46 p.m._  
>  _u r busy aren't u? I saw ur car at 8-Island, and idk. I thought u might be around_.
> 
> ER _ZA SCARLET, 8:47 p.m._  
>  _u know, this is stupid. 4get I texted._

Jellal wasn't a genius when it came to the opposite sex, but he was certain when a woman said she was "fine" the truth was anything but. His blood boiled despite his plummeting body temperature as he thought of what might be happening. Nine times out of ten, Erza could handle herself; she wasn't the type to cry wolf.

> _JELLAL FERNANDES, 8:48 p.m._   
>  _I'm not busy. What do you need?_

He lied unabashedly. No matter where he was or what he was doing, Jellal would never be busy when she needed him. It was a lesson he learned a few years too late.

> _ERZA SCARLET, 8:50 p.m._   
>  _I'm at Bar Sun. I drank too much and my ride left. Can u come get me?_
> 
> _JELLAL FERNANDES, 8:50 p.m.  
> _ _Simon left you there?_

Jellal winced as soon as his thumb pressed send. It was an impulsive question, and he was sure that Erza would sense the subtext, no matter how much she had to drink. Simon wasn't his business.

> _JELLAL FERNANDES, 8:51 p.m._   
>  _Sorry. That was out of line. I saw you together today at the wedding._
> 
> _ERZA SCARLET, 8:54 p.m._   
>  _Simon and I didn't ride together. I'd ask him, but he left with Millianna before the after party._
> 
> _JELLAL FERNANDES, 8:55 p.m._   
>  _Hang tight, Erza. I'll be there soon._
> 
> _ERZA SCARLET, 8:55 p.m._   
>  _thx, Jellal._

He pocketed his phone and glanced at his watch.  Wearing a watch was the sort of thing that made Jellal old-fashioned, much like coming to the rescue of his former fiancée.  With an hour and a half (at least) left on his shift, there wasn’t a shot in hell Mr. Yajima would let him go early, and when it came to lying, Jellal was an easy read.

On the other hand, Ultear’s poker face never wavered.

He found her keying an order into the worn kiosk, and under the pretense of asking her a question, Jellal slipped her his phone.  True to form, Ultear’s expression remained pleasant and businesslike as she scrolled through the brief conversation, but through a curtain of deep violet hair, Jellal saw her ruby eyes flash with intrigue.  She slipped the phone into his pocket without a hitch and turned her attention back to the screen.

“It’s price charming to the rescue then, isn’t it?  Going to take her back to your place and storm the castle, just like the good ol’ days?” she said with a low sultry lilt.

“I’m just going to drive her to her mom’s place,” Jellal responded.  “Natsu and Lucy got married today; she was in the wedding and had too much to drink.  It could happen to anyone.”

“But it’s not just anyone,” Ultear observed.  “It’s _Erza_.” 

Jellal didn’t respond to her commentary.  Ultear was neither a good nor bad influence in his life.  She was just along for the ride.  And Jellal couldn’t deny that she had a way of discerning what he wanted most, even if he couldn’t admit it to himself.  For better or worse, it was Erza.  Always Erza.

“I need to get out of here, but my shift isn’t over for a while,” Jellal said as he turned to survey the dining room.  One of the restaurant patrons vied for his attention with exaggerated animation.

“Leave it to me.”

The conspirators parted company wordlessly as Ultear loudly told their young coworker, Meredy that she needed a smoke break.  As soon as the pink haired teen agreed to check on her tables, Ultear slipped out the back door with a pack of djarum blacks in hand.  Jellal saw to his customers' needs with as much attentiveness as he could muster.  His eyes remained somewhat fixed on his wristwatch as he doled out large portions of pasta and fried food.  Anticipation burrowed into the pit of his stomach.

Finally, Jellal heard Mr. Yajima call his name.

“Mr. Fernandes,” he asked with some apprehension.  “Do you have a brother?”

Jellal smiled inwardly.  This was one of their tried and true classics, and like all good lies, there was a kernel of truth at its core.

“Yes,” Jellal responded earnestly.  “Mystogan, my twin.  You probably haven’t met him.  He lives with my dad in Edolas.  Split custody, sort of like The Parent Trap without the weird summer camp meet up.”

That part wasn’t even a lie.

“Hmm,” Mr. Yajima cast his eyes downward, wringing a napkin in his palms.  He called Jellal in close, guiding him away from the dining area.  “I’m sorry to have to tell you this, but there’s been some sort of accident.  Your mom called.  She said you’d be traveling to Edolas right away to visit your brother.  She was… quite persistent.”

Jellal did his best to appear troubled as Mr. Yajima opened the locker room for him. 

“What happened?” he asked with genuine curiosity.

“He collapsed in the law library.  Apparently, he’s been pushing himself too hard studying for his exams.”

Jellal opted for silence in lieu of anything convincing to say as he began to unload his locker.  He made a mental note to let Mystogan know about the deception.  As always, Ultear had crafted an ideal (if slightly farfetched) alibi.  Something serious enough to warrant attention, but trivial enough to evade any news coverage. 

“Just take all the time you need,” the older gentleman mumbled.  “If you can’t make your shift tomorrow, I understand.  Do apologize to your mother for me and tell her I will think about revising my cell phone policy.”

As Jellal slipped out of the side door of 8-Island, he found Ultear leaning against the brick wall, surrounded by a thick cloud of clove and tobacco scented smoke.  She balanced a long, black cigarette between her fingers with practiced ease as she tipped her head in Jellal's direction.  Her fingers were stained with so much more than nicotine, but she seemed to enjoy getting her hands dirty.

“Don’t have too much fun,” Ultear said softly.  “I don’t think I’ll be able to get you out of Monday too.”

Jellal chuckled.  “I wish you’d give those up.  They’re bad for your health.”

“So is studying law, apparently.” 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I FINALLY got out another chapter, and I'm warning you. It isn't the smut you're looking for... yet. I apologize. Guess I just go all in for the angst these days.
> 
> One more chapter, I think. Expect it probably after Royai week (June 11-17, in case anyone wants to participate). I'm still not the biggest fan of the first chapter, but I've accepted that they're not all gems.
> 
> Kudos, comments, subscriptions and bookmarks give me literal life y'all! Anyway, happy reading.
> 
> -A

It was a beautiful wedding.  Erza and Levy had (quite literally in Erza’s case) worked their asses off to make it so. The Grecian style silver sage bridesmaid’s dresses played well against the pink roses and succulents in all the floral arrangements.  Somehow, despite a last-minute catering snafu, the mini quiche arrived with just the right proportion of caramelized onions.  And if the pastor had any lingering issues with the amount of skin revealed by Lucy’s dream wedding dress, he kept his thoughts to himself.

Erza was happy for them.  Really.

She said it loud and proud as she saw Natsu and Lucy off from the after party, wide grin and friendly wave intact.  Their post-wedding afterglow was reminiscent of a desert sunrise.  Natsu’s warm orange blush tinted Lucy’s glitzy radiance as they finally excused themselves from Bar Sun, lighting the night as they went.  But no sooner had the groom scooped his lady up bridal style and barreled out the doors than Erza turned back to the bar, ordering another blueberry mojito and a shot of tequila to dull the ache.

Because once she was certain that the happy couple was in a world all their own and the cameras were safely stowed away, Erza could finally admit to herself that she wasn’t happy.  Not a little bit.  Not at all.

It wasn’t because she hadn’t had so much as a morsel of strawberry cake in over three months.  Well, maybe just once or twice in moments of weakness.  Neither was it because she harbored any romantic feelings for the bride or groom.  That idea was laughable; she thought of them like younger siblings.  Not even seeing her ex, Simon with her childhood friend Millianna on his arm saddled her soul with regret or remorse.  Though, by all accounts, it should have bothered her more.

 As Erza felt the telltale agave-infused burn of house tequila scorch her throat, she allowed herself a moment of selfish weakness, regret and even anger.  This beautiful, meaningful, thrown together in less than six months because they couldn’t wait any longer wedding wasn’t Lucy’s.  Not a little bit.  Not at all.

Four years ago, it was Erza’s.  The same chapel and reception venue.  Even the same caterer.  Only the cast of characters had changed.

Erza gave Lucy all her contacts, without mentioning how she came about the information for elegant but affordable weddings in Magnolia.  All because Lucy had done what a younger Erza hadn’t been willing to accomplish.  She’d told her father to go to hell.  Told him she knew her own heart, and she was marrying Natsu with or without his support.

And as the liquor flowed down Erza’s throat with reckless abandon, she forgot to watch the time.  She forgot that Gajeel and a somewhat green around the gills Levy had abruptly left an hour before Natsu and Lucy made their exit.  Caught in a buzzing haze of hard liquor and wedding wine, she forgot to secure another avenue back to her mother’s house, waving every friend off with assurances that she’d be just fine.  And really, she didn’t want Irene to see her like this.  Not a little bit.  Not at all.

In the midst of her mourning for the wedding that wasn’t, Erza realized that she had overstayed her welcome.  The overhead lights dimmed, and the music swelled as repetitive, computer synthesized beats overtook her thought process.  With renewed purpose, Erza located her cell phone from within her bright yellow clutch and began scrolling through her contacts.  Jellal’s name jumped out like a diamond in the rough.  She wasn’t drunk enough to forget that she saw his car, an older Jeep Wrangler, in the parking lot of 8-Island on the way in; however, the sweet taste of blueberry liquor drowned the memory of Jellal saying that he’d settled for Erza all those years ago, that he wanted to see other women.  In any other circumstance, she would not have called.

Erza half expected that he wouldn’t answer, but he did with an offer to collect her in short order.  No more than 20 minutes later she found herself, flushed faced and slightly swaying, taking the hand of Jellal Fernandes.   Erza allowed his palm to press into the small of her back as they navigated the crowded confines of the bar.  And he was just as she remembered, heartbreakingly so. 

Though older, Jellal’s features held the same severity, an intensity that had often cut Erza to the quick when he had wanted to convey something meaningful.  The tattoo, an “unfortunate stain across half his face” as his mother had called it, also remained unchanged in a striking burgundy contrast to his somewhat fair complexion.  But what Erza missed most, apart from the lip-biting muscle definition that hid beneath his conservative clothes, was Jellal’s hair.  As much as she knew he liked her scarlet mop, Erza also longed to turn his unruly strands between her fingers with a firm grasp.  His colorful locks, like a blue sapphire with the saturation of deep saltwater and the glossy dimension of a brilliant cut gemstone, longed to be _handled_ once again.

“You look nice,” he said simply, so close to her ear that she could feel his breath. 

And while her Erza general instincts were that of extremes, she chose an attitude of understated gratitude.  “I’m glad you’re here, Jellal,” she mumbled as the night air hit her bare shoulders.

“Me too,” he replied while helping her into his jeep.  And though Erza was vaguely aware of his hands nudging her feet in the car and his arm reaching across her stomach to fasten the seatbelt, she steeled herself.  The shots had been an awful choice, and she wouldn’t, absolutely wouldn’t allow herself to vomit inside her ex-fiancé’s car.  Not a little bit.  Not.  At.  All.

“Where to?” Jellal asked as he slid into the driver’s side and backed out of the parking lot.  “Your mom’s I’m guessing?”

“I-I can’t go back there right now,” Erza responded with as much emotional sobriety as she could muster.  “She’ll say I’ve been irresponsi-bib-le, and I know I have.  I just…” she hiccupped heartily, bringing a hand to her mouth help suppress the acidic aftertaste that stole her other senses.  “…just want to get some sleep.  I can’t let them see me like this.”

“Still too anxious to show those gaps in your armor.”  Jellal glanced over at the redheaded inebriate with a small smile.  “You’ve got good friends, Erza,” he added matter-of-factly. “They shouldn’t mind taking care of you for once.  Tell me the name of the hotel your friends are at, and I’ll find someone to-”

“No,” she cut him off with obstinate resolve.  “I _can’t_.  I can’t tell them.  It was… It was our wedding, Jellal.  The church by the park where we met.  The room above Café Jo’s with the balcony that overlooks the river where we used to go tubing.  Do you remember the one I planned for us?”

“I do.”

“Funny choice of words considering we didn’t,” she spat with more venom for herself than for him, not that it mattered.  “I’m sorry.  Forget I said that.  It wasn’t meant to hurt you.”  Well, not only meant to hurt him.

Jellal said nothing of Erza’s outburst as he spun the wheel of the car with decisive intent.  “Then you’ll have to stay with me for a few hours, at least until you sober up.”

“Thank you,” the redhead murmured solemnly.

They drove in silence for the remainder of the journey, and though she hadn’t seen him in months, hadn’t really spoken with him in years, Erza allowed her resolve to crumble in his company.  As her head fell back against the headrest, she shut her eyes.  Tears trickled languidly down Erza's face and stained her cheeks with what was certainly not waterproof mascara.  If Jellal noticed, he said nothing, and Erza wondered, not for the first time, where they’d gone wrong.

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while since I wrote smut. Enjoy!

She dreamt of two bodies lying bare beneath a heavy eiderdown comforter with only the stars as their ceiling.  Jellal’s strokes were languid but forceful, the kind of movements that left a pleasant ache between her thighs.  He kissed her much the same way, tongue moving possessively in time with his thrusts to the breathy apex of their horizontal duet.  Erza’s muscles tightened as a whimper vibrated dangerously in the hollow of her throat; she spiraled hopelessly toward her release.  And within the reckless abandon of ecstasy, the hum of Erza’s moan formed a name that she kept locked behind all the ways he’d broken her heart.  All the reasons why people said Erza deserved better.

_“Jellal.”_

Not for the first time, she woke with his name on her lips, and the night’s events came rushing back as quickly as the realization that she was alone in this bed, _his_ bed, the place where’d she’s come to know the difference between lust and love.  It smelled like him, a cross between warm sage and sultry sweat.  That explained the dream, and though the walk down memory lane had been a pleasure, Erza began to worry that Jellal had heard her.  The whole ordeal was awkward enough without the added complication of a sex dream, unintentional though it had been.  She closed her eyes and breathed deeply to quiet the effects of a hangover.

In the hazy space between dreams and reality, Erza liked to pretend that she lived in a world of opposites.  That she and Jellal had never had that fight.  That Simon’s blundering ministrations had stirred a part of her body which had largely remained unmoved by his efforts.  That she wasn’t lying in Jellal’s bed because of a few irresponsible decisions coupled with a string of desperate text messages.

That her mother hadn’t spent the better part of the last half hour calling her cell phone.

Sightless, Erza reached toward the nightstand and felt for her vibrating cellular device.  She blearily held the phone to her ear and answered it with as much clarity as she could muster.  A sluggish sensation clouded every available inch of brain space.

“Morning mother,” Erza said without bothering to confirm her suspicion.  Irene’s voice was as stern as it was shrill, altogether too severe for 8:30 a.m.  Did she really sleep that long?

“I’m sorry to worry you, should have texted.  I caught a ride to the hotel and crashed with my friends,” she lied.  The words dripped too easily from her lips, and Erza realized just how many truths she’d disregarded during the past few months. 

“Yes ma’am; I’ll be home before noon.”  Was that a lie too?  How did she expect to come out of this one without confronting the elephant in the room, without talking to Jellal?  Was it even possible to unpack the mess they’d made within the span of 3 hours?  Erza didn’t think so.  Drawing her arm up over eyes, she tossed her phone aside and sunk back against the plush pillows. 

Despite her churning stomach, she’d kill for a slice of strawberry cake. 

“Hey you.”  His voice was raspy.  It carried a hint of amusement that wasn’t lost on Erza.  She smiled and took in his shirtless figure, still surprisingly defined with more bulk than she remembered.  His pajama bottoms hung loosely across his hips, accentuating the beginnings of the striking “v” that plagued the redhead’s most vibrant dreams.

“On a scale of one to cautionary tale, how bad was I?” she inquired, pushing aside the bed-headed sight of him.

“Not bad at all.  You were charming, as always.”

“I asked for a number, Jellal, not a platitude.”

“A four,” he stated matter-of-factly.  She could hear a smirk play across his lips.  “You weren’t that drunk, just exhausted.  When was the last time you slept in, and I mean really just slept until you woke up?”

“It’s been a while.  Lucy and Natsu got married so quickly, Levy and I pitched in to help as much as we could, and then she couldn’t sleep last night, so I stayed up with her.”

“You’re a good friend.”

“I am an excellent friend,” Erza agreed, sitting up properly for the first time.  She felt the thick covers of his bed shift over her form and a distinctive lack of clothing on the top half of her body.  Thankfully, her panties were still in place.   “Jellal did you…”

“You did that all on your own,” he said holding his palms up protectively.  “Stripped down, even taking off that medieval looking corset thing, before crawling into bed.  I slept on the couch, _in the other room_ ,” he stressed.

Though she was proud of her figure, Erza braced the sheet underneath her arms.  “They’re called Spanx.  Women wear them all the time for special occasions.”

“Since when did you start lumping yourself into that broad category?”  Jellal moved over to the mahogany dresser and pulled out a few nondescript articles of clothing.  He placed a pair of gym shorts and an old t-shirt at the foot of the bed.

“Since I realized I could eat my cake and look good too,” she lied.  The damn dress Lucy picked hadn’t been forgiving.  Even tiny Levy had struggled to conceal a small pooch.

“Breakfast before you leave?” he asked casually.  “Nothing fancy, and I understand if you need to go.  I can call a cab… or an uber, if you’d prefer I didn’t drive you back.”

“I’d like breakfast,” Erza said hopefully.  “I might be moving back to Magnolia after graduation, and I’d rather not avoid you until the next time I get drunk and need a ride.”  Erza chuckled at her attempt to make light of the situation.  Though if her dream was any indication, she hadn’t gotten the ride she needed.  Her eyes fixated on the drawstrings of Jellal’s pajama pants.  Something about the contrast of those white strings against his skin made her fingers twitch.

“Are pancakes okay?” Jellal asked pulling Erza from her salacious daydream.

“Of course,” she responded, “but no bacon?  I thought you liked savory breakfasts.”

The smile Jellal threw back at Erza made her toes tingle between his sheets, such an odd but inviting place to be.  “Surely you haven’t forgotten.  I like to eat sweet things.”  Jellal didn’t have to wait long for an answer.  The blush that colored her cheeks told him that she hadn’t.

* * *

 It was such a juvenile thing to say, but seeing her in his bed brought back memories, vivid recollections of the little noises she made when he would taste her pulse and palm her firm backside.  In fact, it was inaccurate to say he slept on the couch that night so much as laid awake trying to forget that Erza Scarlet, the one that got away, was snoozing peacefully in the next room.  His Erza, the girl he almost married, _should_ have married, was on the other side of his thin living room wall audibly sighing in her sleep.

_“Jellal.”_

If he’d been able to sleep at all, the young man would have chalked it up to a dream.  After everything that had passed between them, Erza moaning his name was a statistical improbability.  But Jellal knew the way that particular moniker sounded on her lips too well to mistake it for anything except what it was.  Right down to the little hitch in the second syllable.

And when he caught her staring at a needy part of his anatomy, Jellal couldn’t help himself.  He remembered the way she clung to his headboard, loudly rewarding his efforts as his hands ghosted up her thighs and pulling her center down to his mouth.  The memory coupled with Erza’s presence was maddening.  So he shot back with the same mouth he used to lovingly lavish attention upon her lower half, and Erza rewarded his innuendo with a blush that matched the hue of her hair.

The aspiring astronomer wasn’t a religious person, but the way she responded to his banter emboldened him enough to instill the possibility of at least two inane miracles within his sleep-addled mind.  The first was that some part of his exfiancée remembered their time together fondly, perhaps fondly enough to forgive him for believing there was something better out there.  Jellal’s second notion was that maybe, just maybe he could find a way to move past his shortcomings, to better himself if only as a penance for his transgressions.

Jellal threw on a t-shirt and readied the pancakes while trying not to smirk.  True to his word, he cut up some sweet strawberries alongside the mountain of crispy-edged carbs and poured butter-rich maple syrup into a small glass dispenser.  The smell of freshly-brewed coffee permeated the confines of his small galley kitchen.  Jellal turned to serve himself a cup, mug in hand when he saw her leaning against the corner wall.  Never one to be outdone, she gave him a look that left no room for interpretation.  Two could play at _that_ game.

His shirt on her smaller frame was a delightful sight, and Erza’s toned legs were all the more entrancing for their lack of pants.  He missed her smile and her sighs, the way she laughed when she wrapped her legs around his waist.  Jellal no longer felt thirsty or tired, only hungry for her in the worst possible way. 

“I’ve missed this,” Erza announced as casually as if she was reading a headline from the newspaper.  The sentiment was news to Jellal.  “I’ve missed you.”

“Me too,” the young man gasped against his own dry throat.  He barely managed to fill his coffee cup without spilling it everywhere.

“You’ve missed you?”  Erza asked playfully, cocking an eyebrow.

“No,” he replied, stumbling over the meaning behind his words, trying not to wonder whether she was wearing a bar.  She wasn’t.  “I’ve missed this too.  All of it.  I’ve missed you, and the person I was while we were together.”  Erza only nodded in reply.

Jellal busied himself loading the kitchen table with pancakes, sliced strawberries and syrup.  To his relief, the redhead sat, hiding away her bottom half.  Thankful for the added barriers, Jellal steadied his hands and passed her a cup of black coffee.  He placed a small container of sugar and a carton of cream on the table.

“I don’t remember how you take it,” he admitted bitterly.

“It’s always the little things like that you forget first,” Erza observed.  She took a breath and warily chanced her next thought as she slipped some strawberries onto her plate.  “Simon was good about remembering that sort of stuff.”

“Was?”  Jellal had gathered it was over between them, but the details of the breakup seemed important, even if he wasn’t entitled to them.

“Four months ago,” she shared, answering the questions that he did not have the gall to ask.  “I broke it off, and he was… lovely about it.  Too lovely, I think.  Mother’s furious at me, but he’s already dating Millianna.  They seem happy.”

“Are you happy?” A selfish part of Jellal wanted her to say no, but he knew this Erza wasn’t the same person who’d left him 3 years ago. 

“Yes,” Erza replied with a genuine grin.  “Strange enough, I have you to thank for it.  If we’d never broken up, I wouldn’t have tried to make friends at Crocus.  You know I’ve never had a lot of support when I was younger, but now there’s a whole group of people who have my back, no matter what I decide to do.  And I find myself trying harder just to justify their faith.  For a girl who grew up with few friends and a mom who was always busy, it’s a dream come true.”

“Sounds like a fairytale.”

“You could say that.”  She chuckled through a mouthful of pancake.  “But you have Ultear.”

Jellal smirked, sensing a question buried in subtext.  Having lost the hunger for anything that wasn’t Erza, he pushed his food around his plate.  Ultear had always been a sensitive subject.  “We still bat for the same team, most days.  For all we’ve put each other through I think we deserve to be stuck together, but not in a romantic sense.  I was wrong to listen to Ultear about you.”

“You admit it.”

“I’ve known it for it for a long time.”

“Then why didn’t you say something?”

Erza had friends as good as family.  Stronger and tougher for her hardships, she was now a leader.  If she’d been too good for him before, Jellal was wholly worthless now, even if the fallout of their relationship had been the catalyst for such change.

“You were with Simon, and I’m… undeserving.”

“You might be,” Erza frankly stated as if she’d rehearsed this conversation before, “but I’m not.  I deserve to be happy.  I’m more than the sum of my mistakes.  In time, I’d like to think you’ll feel the same.”

“Don’t wait around for something that’s not going to work out,” he said sullenly.  And there it was, the heart of the matter.  @levythescriptmage was wrong.  Not everyone deserved to live #happilyeverafter, especially not Jellal Fernandes.

But of all people, Erza did.  With any luck, she’d move back to Magnolia and follow her mother’s footsteps straight into politics.  Eventually, she’d find someone that made her writhe and sigh like he had all those years ago, and whether it was 2.5 kids and a white picket fence or a sleek condominium in a trendy high rise, he’d be a fool not to give Erza whatever she wanted, to build a life with her.  Jellal would fade into the background until he was too insignificant to merit a footnote. 

He told himself that he preferred being alone.

 “Prove it,” Erza demanded.

“How?”

She stood up and closed the distance between them with surprising speed.  Instinctively, Jellal pivoted in his chair to face her as she brought her face close to his, mere inches away.  A mixture of cigarette smoke and hairspray clung to her body; but rather than deter his ambitions, her mere proximity tested his restraint.  Erza’s scarlet hair matched his bleeding heart in ways that made her so wonderfully complementary in his arms.

“You know.”

A kiss didn’t prove anything, he told himself as he closed the distance between their lips and tangled his hand in her hair.  But what started as timid became forceful and heady within a matter of seconds.  She tasted sweet, of strawberries and maple syrup, and he remembered, all too quickly, the way Erza preferred his tongue to tease hers.  Neither had she forgotten that Jellal liked his lower lip nipped to the point of being bitten.

In that moment, bringing her to bed, a place he sincerely (if impossibly) hoped they’d never leave, became his all-consuming task. Without thinking, Jellal lifted his red-haired maiden’s feet from the ground with reverence, and in kind, she wrapped her legs around his waist.  When finally their lips parted for breath, she pulled his shirt off, tossing it carelessly across his darkened bedroom.  He laid her down, still clad in his shirt and appreciated how the bands of light streaming through his blinds highlighted her wanting chestnut eyes amidst the darkness.

Their underwear and his pajama pants joined his shirt in a forgotten heap on the floor.  Though Erza raised her arms for him to slip off the shirt she wore, Jellal paused, merely dragging his calloused hands up her sides to expose her breasts.  Seeing them for the first time in a long time, he felt 17 again, all jitters and stars in his eyes.  The growing hardness in his nether regions couldn’t help but crave the fullness that the intervening years had endowed her with.

“I want you with it on,” he said just before he drew her nipple into his mouth.

With a sharp intake of breath, Erza arched against him, burying her hands in his dark blue tresses with tugs that were anything but forgiving.  Jellal lost himself somewhere between the vibrations of her breathy moans and the dull ache of the redhead’s forceful pulls.  When his mouth found hers again, his hand traveled down the swell of her writhing hips.  Erza opened her thighs willingly, and Jellal obliged, parting her lips to touch the warm, wet place that gave her pleasure.

“Not your hand,” she gasped with the beginnings of a satisfied smile.

“Do we need-“

“No.  I trust you.”

Sometime later, Jellal would ponder the peculiar magnetism which drew them together, no matter how hard he tried to repel her with his sins.  Erza saw through him, to his core, knew him better than he had known himself.  And when he slid into her with barely containable enthusiasm, Jellal knew he would happily struggle to deny her anything and everything she asked for.  He would never stop proving to Erza that she was, indeed, too good for him, if only to fall short of what she deserved and start over with each sunrise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: I don't mean to get all Fandom Mom here, but that's exactly what I'm doing. Do not have sex without a condom unless you are willing to put your health in someone else's hands. And are you ready to never sleep again? I didn't think so. So wrap it up.
> 
> Since this chapter turned out so long, I decided to write an epilogue to conclude it. Hopefully, I get to it soon.
> 
> And, if you have feedback, please share it with me. Every kudo, bookmark, subscription and comment is precious! And I'm also *trying* to learn how to tumblr, so please follow me there under the name [flourchildwrites](https://flourchildwrites.tumblr.com/). I'd love to hear from you guys!


	4. Epilogue

Two and a half months later.

“Did you miss me, boys?”

Ultear knew that cell phones didn’t belong in a courthouse.  If the sign just outside the metal detectors wasn’t enough, her prior dealings with Fiore’s lauded justice system left no room for interpretation.  No meant no… until someone came up with a better argument.  The law was ironic that way.  All rules were made to be bent if one didn’t mind breaking them every so often.  And if that wasn’t the most tempting invitation.

“How nice to see you again Ms. Milkovich,” Officer Sting Eucliffe responded flatly, devoid of the smallest hint of enthusiasm.  The blonde sentinel grabbed his handheld metal detector in anticipation.  “You know the drill.  Empty your pockets, hand over that purse and step through.”

Having no other choice, Ultear complied.  She readied her explanations as Eucliffe’s partner, Officer Rogue Cheney, rummaged through her sleek black clutch with a long pointed instrument.  As expected, the walk-through metal detector sang out as the dark-haired beauty reached the other side.   Eucliffe grimaced and began running the wand over Ms. Milkovich figure, wincing as it beeped in sensitive, but predictable places.

“Careful Officers,” Ultear stated haughtily.  “That bag is Saint Laurent, and we all know what you’re detecting.  Shall we summon Deputy Agria?  I do love to show off my jewelry to someone who’s so easily flustered.  Such a porcelain doll, that one.”

“Her bag’s good to go,” Rogue announced, handing it gingerly back to its owner.  “The machine must be acting up again.  A few piercings shouldn’t be setting it off, but it wouldn’t be the first time.”  Just as expected, Rogue’s rationale was succinct, reasonable and utterly wrong.  The phone tucked neatly into the waistband of Ultear’s red skirt, grew hot against her bare belly button. 

“Damn thing,” Sting spat.  He was never one to inconvenience Yukino if it could be helped.  “What are you here for anyway, Milkovich?  I thought you graduated drug court.”

“Clean as a whistle, Officers.  Scout’s honor.”  Ultear executed a lazy three-finger salute, and Officer Cheney smirked in disbelief.  “I’m here for a wedding.”

* * *

They let her through with only a few words of caution, and after a quick trip to the restroom, Ultear sauntered down the narrow hallway toward Division F, The Honorable Makarov Dreyar’s chambers, with her bedazzled purple cell phone in hand.  The odds were good that none of Erza’s friends knew she was coming, and Ultear preferred it that way. Jellal should have known better than to leave his phone unattended at work.  Or perhaps, she reasoned, brushing her blunt cut dark violet hair over her shoulder, it was just his way of inviting her.

After all, what good was a shotgun wedding without a gun in attendance?  Though, in any case, Ultear considered herself more of a metaphorical pistol.

The young woman didn’t have to search for her intended audience.  The fairytale kids, as she’d taken to calling them, were an easy bunch to spot, all neatly paired up with one another in their own small, circular world.  Erza’s friends reminded Ultear of a bible story shoved down her throat by one of her nameless, faceless nannies; Noah’s ark was the name that came to mind.  The gaggle of stodgy boy-girl pairs split out from Division F’s doors into the common waiting area.  Their boisterous voices dripped with levity as the litigants surrounding them rung their hands and made small talk with their lawyers.

All except Jellal and Erza, and even then, mainly Jellal.

“Hey, stranger.”  Ultear tapped a recognizable set of shoulders standing at the periphery of the small crowd.  In addition to his trademarked scowl, Jellal wore a blue collared buttondown and black slacks.  She chuckled wryly at the way his shirt clashed against his hair.

As expected, Jellal’s expression was a satisfying mixture of surprise and amusement.  So predictable.  He really should have changed his phone’s passcode.

“Should I even ask how you found out about this?” he asked, stuffing his hands in his pockets.  It was rhetorical, but all the same, Ultear answered.

“No.  I thought you could use someone in your corner,” she replied haughtily.  “Or a getaway car if they all turn on you for stealing Erza away from them.”

“I can’t steal something that doesn’t belong to anyone,” Jellal glanced over at Erza.  Clad in a yellow sundress, she allowed her hand to rest tentatively on a small baby bump.  Levy squealed with delight muttering something about the babies kicking.   Gajeel rolled his eyes if only for show.  Ultear followed suit with sincerity.

“You know you’re turning into one of them.”

Jellal didn’t bother to deny it, and whatever else she could say about the situation, Ultear had to admit that he wore happiness well.  They all did.

A thick wooden door behind the judge’s bench flung open with a resounding thud that quieted the group’s collective voice and drew the crowd into the small courtroom.  A diminutive gray-haired figure cloaked in regal black robes strolled out and called the masses to order.  His voice swelled, gruffly demanding the attention of the room.  Ultear almost missed the familiar face that trailed behind Judge Dreyar.  Then again, the man inside was completely different.  Mystogan, this summer’s legal intern, was no Jellal, not even on his best day.

“Let’s get started!” Judge Dreyar announced with a smile that was almost too wide for his face.  “Will the bride and groom please step forward.”

Erza weaved through the small crowd as the various couples took their seats in the worn pews.  Natsu threw an arm around Lucy’s shoulders as the bubbly blonde slid into the space next to him.  Juvia clasped Gray’s hand with vigor prompting a protest that was ostentatious as it was half-hearted.  Even the standoffish Laxus sat precariously close to the lovely Mirajane.  The pretty platinum blonde’s pinky met her companion’s corresponding digit on the cold surface of the pew.

“Be a good boy and don’t keep her waiting,”  Ultear spoke softly.  She didn’t attempt to mask her disdain for Jellal’s decision, but she respected his resolve too much to try and dissuade his affections again.  Erza had ensnared Jellal, marked him with bites and scratches in places only a lover would look.

“You don’t have to be a pariah,” he observed.  Jellal’s honest gaze met Ultear’s sly set of crimson eyes, hidden behind a pair of glasses she didn’t need.  “Join us.  I could officially introduce you to everyone.  Who knows, you might even like them.”

The young woman crossed her arms across her chest and stepped back into the shadows.  She leaned casually against the frame of the courtroom’s open doors.  “No thanks,” she replied.  “The Disney magic of a monogamous heterosexual relationship doesn’t agree with me.  I’ll melt if I get too close.”

 “Suit yourself.”

“I always do.”

With that, Jellal turned to find Erza bounding toward him with light in her eyes and cheerfulness practically streaming from the tips of her vibrant scarlet hair.  She took his hand, grasping his fingers, and Jellal allowed himself to be pulled away from the courtroom’s shadows.  If Erza noticed Ultear, she said nothing as the pair took a seat next to Mirajane and Laxus.

It was a short ceremony, all told.  Devoid of the little details and religious overtones that made big white weddings so tedious.  And yet, Levy looked just as lovely as a run-way bride in her white eyelet maternity dress, and Gajeel had the contagious nervous energy of any eager groom, shuffling back and forth in place at the front of the austere courtroom.  Naturally, they wrote their own vows, forgoing rings, flowers and other niceties in favor of a down payment on a three bedroom, two bath house at the outskirts of Magnolia.

As Ultear snapped a picture of the bride and groom’s kiss with her contraband cellphone, she marveled at how different love could look.  With some, it was a fiery, all-consuming passion that threatened to burn the fields and shake the stars from the sky.  With others, it was a slow burn, tempered with respectful restraint and the memory of past mistakes.  Love had neither hard and fast rules nor standard expectations.  And Ultear, more than most, understood that marriage did not a #happilyeverafter make.

Lucy and Natsu’s merry marriage bash was no more meaningful that Levy and Gajeel’s tidy civil ceremony.  In time, the dresses would no longer fit.  The flowers would wilt.  Even the photographs would crisp and curl around the edges like brittle, faded memories in a forgotten photo album.  Happily ever after had no rhyme or reason, no perfect algorithm to match and pair.  The social media illusion was easy to craft, but life was nuanced, less controlled.  And for its flaws, it might even be more beautiful.  Only time would tell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this. If so, you know the drill. Kudos, bookmarks and comments are appreciated. Also, check out my tumblr, [flourchildwrites](https://flourchildwrites.tumblr.com/). Send me an ask, a prompt or even an anon nasty message if that floats your boat. 
> 
> Until next time!


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